Page:Poems Welby.djvu/198

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SUDDEN DEATH.
How still she lies upon her pillow sinking,
With her white folded hands upon her breast!
The rosy morn disturbs not her sweet thinking—
And fails the lark to rouse her from her rest.
She sleeps as if her soul exhaled in sighs—
As if her lover's kisses closed her eyes!

How still she lies! But list—through her hushed chamber
A sudden sound of childish glee hath spread;
While little forms with laughing voices clamber
O'er her soft bosom, and about her bed.
They toss their golden locks before her eyes,
Crying, in sportive tones —"Rise, sister, rise!

"Oh, rise! We've been away among the flowers,
And had such gambols with the bird and bee;
The young things thought to give us chase for hours,
But were not lighter on the wing than we.
And see! we stole their buds and flowers in play—
Oh rise, sweet sister—rise and come away!"

Alas, ye glad young creatures! o'er that fair
And polished cheek your kisses fall in vain.